


When Winter Comes

by SmartyCat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartyCat/pseuds/SmartyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relena ponders returning to her childhood home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Winter Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and distributed in America exclusively under license by Bandai Entertainment.
> 
> I was poking at the writing again. Muses were and are pretty hypothermic though; they need some warming up.

**Title** : When Winter Comes  
 **Genre** : general  
 **Pairings** : None  
 **Date Completed** : December 9, 2010  
 **Word count** : 333  
 **Summary** : Relena ponders returning to her childhood home.

When winter comes, I will head homeward again.

In some ways I feel like a bird of summer, locked into clear migratory paths, only reversed. I will not seek the tropics and long, sunlit days to warm my bones. Instead I long for the chill of home. Winter's bird am I, heading back to the ancestral nest.

Home is where Mother resides still in that big house. She is not all alone, of course-one never can be with so many staff-but she is lonely nonetheless. She does not say so, but I see the sorrow in her eyes and note the way her hands will linger in the air where I have been. She was never the most demonstrative or joyful woman, but now it is as if she has lost her sense of purpose and does not know why she lingers there.

The memories bind us, naturally. I had my happy childhood, she her happy marriage. Father was inspiration, driving force, familial glue. He was often busy and often away, but his force of personality remained and kept the house filled with purpose and ambition. Mother was his vessel, and now that he is gone, she grows empty. His life and vitality seeped away and were never replaced.

I cannot be what my father was for her. I am pulled in too many directions, my attention devoted to matters that affect too many. No matter what accolades others may heap upon me, I will never have the presence that my father did. I cannot sustain her.

Make no mistake though, these are not hollow Christmases, and I by no means dread the going.

In solstice darkness, I will alight from the sky and make the drive alone. This is my moment; I will be going home. Mother will have a candle in the window, flickering, fragile, but burning valiantly for all that, and it will light my way.

It gives me hope, not for myself, not for the world, but for her.


End file.
